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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269341">Little Cat Feet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez'>zombiekittiez</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Trick or Sheith 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Agoraphobia, Black Cat - Freeform, Getting Together, Halloween, Happy and Hopeful Ending, Keith is too, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Adam/Shiro - Freeform, TrickOrSheith, a meet cute gone wrong tbh, background allurance, kind of heavy ngl, shiro's going through it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:40:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith tells Black about his work day- about working on vintage car restoration at Marmora Motors and their snooty wealthy owners. He likes the work but he doesn’t feel really part of the team yet. Nobody trusts him with the more expert jobs. It’s fine, Keith knows- just a little frustrating. </p><p>“At least I made a friend,” Keith says. “We know each other’s names, so now we’re friends, right, Black? I think that’s how it works.” </p><p>...Shiro kind of wishes Keith knew his name too. </p><p> </p><p>~~</p><p>Trick or Sheith Day 5: Black Cat</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Trick or Sheith 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Little Cat Feet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was supposed to just be a cute fic about Black being a real cat who gets Shiro and Keith together and it ended up more a cathartic writing exercise than I intended. </p><p>Trigger Warnings: depressive thoughts, self-destructive and unreliable narrator, agoraphobia, panic attacks, mention of fatal car accident. </p><p>... I swear it ends cute.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A new tenant moves into 3D on Thursday. Shiro, in 3C, resigns himself to an afternoon of clatter and noise, dust and disturbance. He’d liked Ulaz a lot; the older man had been a major part of his support network when everything went down with the accident. Shiro doesn’t begrudge him; it’s been in his plans to buy a big farm upstate for years. Now that his long distance partner Thace is ready to move to remote work and the market is good… it’s just made sense. Ulaz left their new address scribbled on the back of an unmailed postcard tacked to the fridge with a standing invitation to come by any time. Shiro knows he means it- that’s not the issue. Ulaz was just the last person Shiro knows who thinks Shiro might be able to still do it, some day. </p><p>It’s a good spot, for an old building. Rent controlled and Coran, the live-in super, is as kind as he is handy. The floors are thin, though. It’s fine for Shiro, who isn’t much in the habit of doing anything interestingly noisy- and Hunk and Lance are so good natured that it probably wouldn’t much matter if he hosted a tap dancing troupe every Tuesday. It’s not like they couldn’t find other places to be. </p><p>Shiro peeks out of the window, through the thin bars of the fire escape, spying on 3D. It’s a fair distance, but Shiro knows this view and can list every person coming and going- even the usual Amazon Prime delivery guy. There- that must be him. Hard to make out features, but he’s young and slim fit, slouchy in a way that says he can take care of himself. The kind of guy who probably has loud friends who shoot tequila without training wheels.</p><p>Shiro watches him come up, arms loaded down with a couple of trash bags. Clothes, maybe. There’s no moving van or pick up truck out front- maybe the big stuff is coming through later. Probably whenever his people get off work. Ulaz had known him- a cousin’s kid, or something. He’d told Shiro a little. Lucky break, taking over the rent controlled apartment. Most of Ulaz’s family is out of state anyway. </p><p>In another life, Shiro would have headed down, caught him in the lobby maybe. He can picture it: </p><p>“Hey, you’re new. 3D?” Shiro would grin and hold out a hand- a real hand, they’re both still real when he’s pretending. </p><p>“Yeah?” The guy would say, all wary sharp eyes, the way you get in the city. </p><p>“I was friendly with Ulaz. Keith, isn’t it?” Shiro would say blithely, like he just happened to remember. </p><p>“Oh. Yeah. I didn’t know him real well, we weren’t close.” Keith would say, surprised into accepting the handshake. That’s the key- the opening. </p><p>“I’m sure you’re busy moving in,” Shiro would say. </p><p>“It’s a pain in the ass, living on the fifth floor. I gotta make about a million more trips,” Keith would roll his eyes. </p><p>“Need a hand?” Shiro would offer gallantly. </p><p>Keith would size him up- Shiro’s a good size, and he used to be really impressive so even if he was feeling prickly, it’d just be practical. He looks the way he used to, when he’s pretending. “You sure?” Keith would ask. </p><p>Shiro would shrug, the picture of cool. “Save me a trip to the gym later.” </p><p>And they would go down and up a few times together, and maybe Shiro would offer to show him the good happy hours sometime next week when he’s settled, a welcome to the neighborhood thing. Invite a couple of people from around the building. Make a neat friend. Have a nice day. </p><p>That’s where the fantasy falls apart, of course. If Shiro can’t make it to the parking lot, he can’t imagine being in a pub again. The noise. The press. The strangers. One person is all it would take- a second look from the waitress for his hair or his arm or his scar or maybe just because he’d said his order a little too quietly for her to hear. </p><p>No. </p><p>There’s a reason Shiro hasn’t so much as stepped outside the lobby in three years. </p><p>Keith makes one or two more trips. The last time, Keith seems to be settling in. Shiro hears him open the window upstairs- Shiro’s is almost always left open, for Black. </p><p>Ulaz had always liked 3D because it got the perfect amount of afternoon sun for his assorted plants. Without a window unit, Keith is probably sweltering. He’s whistling, though. Shiro hears the sound of him settling on the fire escape one floor up and the rustling of take out containers. He’s not the only one to recognize the sound- Black sits bolt upright from where she’d been napping on the back of the couch. </p><p>Shiro, aware of how sound travels between the floors, gives her his best disapproving Dad face. The other residents know better than to give Black treats- Keith is a rogue factor. Black lashes her tail. She’s aware, it seems- and willing to press her luck. </p><p>Don’t you dare, Shiro mouths at her. He creeps forward to scoop her up and she darts to the side, bounding to the floor, the dining table- and the open window. His arm closes on nothing and the quickness of his movement almost overbalances him. Shiro catches himself on the table, swearing silently. She disappears up the fire escape.</p><p>“Oh. Hello.” Keith sounds surprised. “Are you my neighbor?” Shiro nearly replies, but then Keith says “You’re cute,” and Shiro flushes red. “Friendly, too,” he adds and Black’s answering mew trails in through the window. </p><p>The cat. </p><p>Right. </p><p>“Do you want some?” Keith asks. “I don’t know if your owner will like it, but… I have to be a good host. I’m sure he’ll understand.” </p><p>Black mreows as Keith shuffles around. “There. A little chicken never hurt anybody.” </p><p>A pause. Shiro’s caught his balance now- he should stop listening in. </p><p>“It’s good, right?” Keith asks smugly. “Best Chinese in the city, Ulaz was right. And I got a ton because Coran cut me a deal on this month’s rent over the AC being broken.” Black trills politely. “Hey, it’s still cooler than Arizona- and I could use the money. My first check won’t clear for another week. Then I’m thinking… book shelves. What do you say?” </p><p>Shiro finds himself sitting at the table, head resting on his arms. He gives up all pretense and eavesdrops shamelessly. </p><p>“Will you visit me again when I have bookshelves? Test the structural integrity? I’ve never built shelves before.” </p><p>A pause. </p><p>“I’ve… never had my own place before. I’ve never had anyone over to my place before. It would be nice, if we could be friends.” </p><p>Shiro agrees. It really would be. </p><p>“... I wonder what your name is,” Keith murmurs. When he gets up to clear up the packaging, Black trots down the stairs and darts into Shiro’s window with the dignity of a queen. </p><p>“You’re the worst,” Shiro tells her after he’s quietly shut the window. “You sneak.” He rubs behind her ears thoughtfully. Before he goes to bed, Shiro calls Allura. He texts, sometimes, but calls are rare enough that she picks up on the second ring. </p><p>“Everything okay?” She asks. </p><p>“Fine. Really,” he adds, when her silence is suspicious. “Can you do me a favor? Just… whenever.” </p><p>“Of course. What can I do?” </p><p>“It’s Black. Maybe it’s a good idea to get her a collar and tag. Just in case.” Shiro says lightly. </p><p>“I thought you said she wasn’t your cat,” Allura reminds him. “That she was her own creature, strong independent feline who don’t need no man.” </p><p>Shiro scowls at the phone. “Maybe you wore me down.” </p><p>“Don’t get me wrong,” Allura says placatingly. “I think it’s great. I think… maybe having something else to love might be good for you.” </p><p>“It’s just a collar.” Shiro says weakly. </p><p>“Of course it is,” Allura agrees. “What do you want? Her name on front, your information on the back?”</p><p>“Just a phone number,” Shiro says. “Nothing else.” </p><p>“Whatever you say.”</p><p>~~</p><p>Black does not appreciate her new collar even though it is shiny and patterned with strawberries and objectively very fetching. She sulks about it for a day or so. When Shiro opens the window, though, she is off like a shot. </p><p>It’s pizza tonight, but Keith is careful to explain that she can only have one slice of pepperoni, as a treat. </p><p>“Black,” he reads off her collar. “Your owner’s real original, huh?” He snorts. “Nice to meet you, Black. I’m Keith.” </p><p>Keith tells Black about his work day- about working on vintage car restoration at Marmora Motors and their snooty wealthy owners. He likes the work but he doesn’t feel really part of the team yet. Nobody trusts him with the more expert jobs. It’s fine, Keith knows- just a little frustrating. </p><p>“At least I made a friend,” Keith says. “We know each other’s names, so now we’re friends, right, Black? I think that’s how it works.” </p><p>...Shiro kind of wishes Keith knew his name too. </p><p>~~</p><p>“What do you mean, overdrawn?” Keith’s voice trails in from the fire escape. “That wasn’t supposed to charge until-” He pauses, listening. “Right. No. I understand. It’s... fine. Thanks for double checking.” </p><p>Shiro neatly catches Black, keeping her from running out to her new friend. He doesn’t sound in the mood for company.  </p><p>“Damn it,” Keith mutters to himself. “Guess I <i>should</i> have gone grocery shopping yesterday.” </p><p>Shiro shuts the window, turning to his desk. It’s buried under his remote transcription work, but he’s sure- ah, here it is. All the cards he got, after. It’s not nice, going through them, but he finds what he’s looking for. A grocery store gift card, no expiration date, for a hundred bucks. Shiro finds a bit of ribbon attached to a christmas gift bag, in that weird little cabinet at the bottom of the china hutch. Black gives him a dirty look when he loops the card through the ribbon around her neck. </p><p>“No such thing as a free lunch,” he tells her, cracking the window.<br/>
She darts through the space and bounds up the steps. </p><p>“Sorry kitty, it’s ramen or bust,” Keith tells her ruefully. “Hey, hold still- you got something caught-” </p><p>Shiro holds his breath. He’d written <i>to Keith, from Black</i> on the card. Which was stupid. Cats can’t write. Maybe he’ll get mad. </p><p>“You want me to have this?” Keith asks slowly. Black trills- he must be scratching that spot just under her chin. </p><p>“Why-” he breaks off. “...Hello?” His pause after is a deliberate one, but Shiro doesn’t move and Keith doesn’t talk and after a minute or so, he hears the window close. Shiro stays where he is, half-afraid Keith is going to come down a floor to throw the card back in Shiro’s face, but a few minutes later he sees Keith’s figure exiting the building, heading toward the store. Black comes back in.  </p><p>There’s a receipt wrapped around her collar. <i>Thanks</i> is scrawled on the back in spikey letters. </p><p>Shiro puts it in the desk drawer. </p><p>~~</p><p>For a few days Keith is quiet. He still pets Black and feeds her treats, but he doesn’t tell her about his day or ask her silly questions like he used to. Why would he? He knows Shiro is listening now, like a creep. </p><p>Shiro wishes he could explain. After the thing that happened, he’d slept with the window open. It had been winter and being cold had felt like <i>something</i> when the world was numb and terrible. Allura had been so mad, screaming at him  about freezing to death or getting stabbed in his sleep. Shiro couldn’t find the words to tell her that it wasn’t that he wanted to die- he just didn’t want to be alive anymore. He wasn’t interested in anything that might prolong his life or make one minute of it more comfortable. </p><p>And then he’d woken up with something moving, shivering at his side. He’d thought it was a rat first- it’s the city after all, but no. Black had just looked like a rat, wet with snow and miserable and curled up at his side for warmth. She’d glared at him, daring him to throw her out or wring her neck or any number of terrible things he’s sure that people in the city do to a cat. </p><p>“I’m not keeping you,” Shiro had told her. “If you’re here, it’s because you feel like being here.” It had been like a promise, to the both of them.</p><p>So the window stays open, so long as the weather is good. </p><p>He misses Keith talking. It had almost been like being a person again, having normal conversations. One with a stranger, not loaded with three or four layers of careful concern. </p><p>“I’m being stupid,” Keith says after about a week. “Just because that one time- it doesn’t mean anyone is listening. I’m not that fucking interesting.” </p><p>Shiro pauses where he’s folding laundry- a nice monotonous task. He likes those. He’s gotten pretty good at it, one handed. </p><p>“It’s probably nothing, nobody’s there.” Keith says with a little more confidence. “But if there was…” </p><p>Shiro tries to still the panic fluttering in his gut. </p><p>“If there was, that would be okay.” Keith says finally. “Right, Black?” Black mews. “It might be nice, to talk to a person sometimes.” </p><p>Yeah. Shiro knows. </p><p>After that, Keith starts talking again. He’s shy about it, second guesses himself sometimes, but Shiro starts to be able to parse Keith’s mood just from the tone of his voice. One day is a very bad day. </p><p>“It’s not your fault, Black- here, have some more tuna. I’m too pissed to eat anything. I get that I’m the new guy, okay, but they’re acting like this is my first resto-mod. It’s a Camero, I could do it in my sleep but they gave it to Regris, and I just-” Keith huffs out a long, angry breath. </p><p>“And I’m out of M&amp;M’s. Typical.” Keith voice softens suddenly. “I’m gonna go shower. You gonna be here when I get back?” Black, understandably, does not respond.  “Tease,” Keith says fondly. When he goes inside, Black comes back in and Shiro closes the window. </p><p>Shiro has M&amp;M’s. A huge jar, in fact- but it’s open. It’s the kind meant for baking or sharing probably, but who’s to judge? If Shiro wants to eat fistfuls of M&amp;M’s in  the comfort of his own home, so be it. Not much of a present, though, a half eaten jar of candy some stranger has touched. </p><p>Shiro pulls out his phone, shooting off a quick text to Hunk. Almost immediately he gets a response- it has been a while, he realizes guiltily. They talk a little and it’s nice- easier on screen. Hunk sends over the link to the recipe, and luckily it’s all stuff Shiro has anyway. Not even a half an hour later and Shiro is dividing the batch into three- some for Keith, some for himself, and some for Hunk as thanks. </p><p>Shiro leaves his apartment once a week to pick up the mail downstairs. It’s just like that, he tells himself. It works okay for going to Hunk’s where he leaves the container quietly at the door, going back up the stairs before sending a text to tell Hunk he’d left them a present. Going up should be the same, just in reverse. It’s the same damn wallpaper, the same damn carpeting on the stairs. He can do this. And he does. He gets to 3D and leaves the container of cookies propped against the door. He cannot bring himself to press the doorbell, though. Baby steps. </p><p>Well. Hard part’s over now. Shiro gets back to his apartment and writes a note, tucking it under Black’s collar before opening the window. She bounds upstairs where Keith is already waiting on the fire escape, enjoying the autumn breeze. </p><p>“Hey, you.” Keith pets her then pauses. Crumpling of paper. “A present? For me?” He sounds rueful. “You’re a generous girl, aren’t you, Black? Alright, let’s go see what’s at the front door.” </p><p>Steps into the apartment and coming back. </p><p>“They’re still warm,” Keith says in disbelief. “You just made these. You made these for me?” </p><p>Shiro wants to say yes. He can picture it: </p><p>“Yes,” he’ll say. “You were having a bad day. I thought it might help.” </p><p>“Weird,” Keith would say, “but hey, free cookies. Thanks, man. What’s your name?” </p><p>“Shiro,” he’d say. “I live just below you. I don’t mean to be creepy, I keep the window open for Black. The floors here are thin.” </p><p>“Oh,” Keith would say. “That makes sense, I’m so glad we got that cleared up. You’d be really skeevy if you didn’t tell me that. Imagine if you just kept being quiet down there, listening in. Can’t even talk like a normal person anymore. You’re going to die here, you know. In this building, by yourself. It’s okay, though. I’ll take care of Black for you.” </p><p>Wait. </p><p>“They’re really good,” Keith says, for real this time, around a mouth full of cookie. “Tell your person I said thanks, okay, Black?”  </p><p>Shiro covers his mouth with his hand. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying. </p><p>~~</p><p>Shiro doesn’t even realize that it’s almost Halloween until he goes to order groceries and sees all the themed treats on the front page of the website. </p><p>He kind of hates Halloween. </p><p>It’s his last normal person hold out. The building gets a ton of kids who go door to door, and basically everyone participates. It’s not the kids’ fault that Shiro is a fuck up who doesn’t do great with a lot of strangers. He can’t just leave a bowl of candy out, either- kids are savages. No, he has to open the door and he has to smile and he has to give out candy. These are the rules that Shiro has set. </p><p>He’s feeling whimsical. It might be nice to dress up. Sort of fun, he remembers. Not for him, not anymore- he already looks half Frankenstein’s monster with all the scars. Black, though. Shiro eyes the cat where she drowses on the ottomon, little black paws stuck over the edge. He tries to discern just how mad she’ll be if he gets her one. </p><p>...probably pretty mad. </p><p>Keith loves Halloween, Shiro finds out. </p><p>“Free candy for everybody, even foster kids.” Keith tells Black excitedly. “First fight I ever won was over a pillowcase full of Snickers.” He sounds inordinately proud of himself. “Costumes were always shitty- swipe a lipstick and some shoe black to make yourself a zombie or whatever. Plastic fangs for a vampire, if you make it to the dollar store. I was short, though, so I got to keep going pretty much all of high school.” </p><p>Shiro sits at the dining table, head pillowed on his arms like he usually does when Keith talks. He sounds so happy. It does something to Shiro, that someone might be that happy just to talk to him- even if it isn’t really him. </p><p>“You’re right,” Keith tells Black solemnly. “I could dress up this year, huh? Not that I have anywhere to go, but the kids might like it. I wonder if we get a lot of trick or treaters here? I’m definitely getting the full sized candy bars. Kitkats all the way.” Keith hums, as though listening to Black’s response. “Reeses are a solid choice, you have a good point. I worry about allergies, though. When was the last time I dressed up?” He hesitates, as though thrown by his own imaginary question. </p><p>“Uh. If you only count the real ones, probably… I was eight. And I wanted to be a dragon, so my dad made these wings out of cardboard. I think we used house paint- it smelled so bad.” Keith laughs a little. “Then he died. Like two weeks later. Wild, huh?”  He goes quiet. </p><p>Shiro sits up. </p><p>“This is stupid,” Keith mutters to himself. He sounds upset. “It’s stupid.” </p><p>He goes inside. </p><p>~~</p><p>Shiro finds the costume at a local place- and they deliver. He orders it without thinking twice. </p><p>~~</p><p>Everything is fine, and then it isn’t. </p><p>Always surprising, how that goes. You’d think Shiro would have adjusted by now. </p><p>The text from the delivery guy- not the usual person, some local courier cause it’s a local place- it says delivered. Shiro even came all the way down to the lobby on a Wednesday. He usually lets the mail languish until Sunday. It’s a momentous occasion, really. </p><p>He sends a polite query. The box isn’t among his purchases. Shiro gets back a picture message that makes him suck in a gasp. </p><p>What was he expecting? Half these apartment building have coded entry, why would the courier have brought it inside? This isn’t the same three places used to Shiro’s pathetic need for at-door service (and willingness to tip for the difficulty). It’s Shiro’s fault, really. He could have left the instructions under additional notes. He could have asked Lance or Matt to grab it for him.</p><p>No. </p><p>He’s being fucking pathetic. And he’s already in the lobby. That picture shows where the package is, nestled carefully in the bushes right outside. It’s no more than ten steps over by the bike rack. Shiro can do this. He’s not going to wait until someone notices it and brings it up for him like some kind of invalid. He’s got both feet still, at least. </p><p>Shiro can picture it: </p><p>He’ll march out the door, grab that package and come right back. And then it’ll be funny, in the safety of the lobby. Nobody will notice and nobody will care, just the nutjob shut-in in 3C doing his nutjob shut-in thing. </p><p>Shiro steps outside. </p><p>He remembers the first couple of steps, the way his house-slippers scrape against the cement walkway, the noise louder than it should be. The sun overhead is bright in that autumn way, without warmth. Too bright. Everything is a little bleached out, a little whited out. </p><p>“Shiro? Hey, buddy, what are you doing out here?” Someone touches his arm. Shiro jerks away. He’s holding something. It’s important, he thinks. </p><p>“Is he okay?” Someone else asks. Murmurs. People, all around him. He lists to one side. </p><p>“Whoa, okay- little <i>help-</i>” Lance- it’s Lance, nobody squawks like that except Lance.  </p><p>“I got him, stringbean.” An arm looped around his waist, pulling him upright. “Walk with me, big guy. One, two, step up-” </p><p>“You’re stronger than you look, mullet.” Lance says begrudgingly. It’s not bright anymore, but just because Shiro’s got his eyes closed. When did that happen? </p><p>“Very helpful. Should we call somebody?” </p><p>“Nobody to call,” Lance says helplessly. “He’ll be okay. We just need to get him back to his place. He’s 3C.” </p><p>A pause. Then they’re moving again. The ding of the elevator. </p><p>“I’ll come,” Lance says, but then the doors are closing. </p><p>“I got it.” The elevator rises. It’s quiet. “Breathe,” the voice tells him kindly. It’s a nice voice. Does Shiro know it? “In and out. Here, with me-” </p><p>Shiro obediently breathes along with the stranger-  through moving down the hall and back into his apartment, until he’s sitting at the dining room table. </p><p>Across from Keith. </p><p>“Hi,” Keith says quietly. Black looks between the two of them, then jumps on the table. She’s not allowed up there, but she butts her head against Shiro’s arm, up and covering his face. He’s mortified, red faced, sweat soaked. Shakily he puts his hand down to pet Black. </p><p>“Don’t talk right now,” Keith says. “Just work on your breathing. Do you want me to go?” Shiro shakes his head. “Okay. Good. I’m going to get you some water.” </p><p>Keith moves around the kitchen, finding the glasses and pouring from the tap. Shiro’s aware of the dust and clutter in his little space. It’s a mess and he’s a mess, and Keith isn’t stupid and the window is half open. </p><p>Shiro drinks the water, trying to look at Keith without looking outright. Keith is extremely good looking, Shiro notes dismally. That just seems unfair, like adding insult to injury. </p><p>“Sorry,” Keith says. Shiro looks down at his hand, pressed against the table to keep it from trembling. “Maybe Lance would have been better.” </p><p>Shiro shakes his head emphatically. Lance is good people but he flutters and worries and would definitely call Allura. He might be doing that right now, actually, Shiro realizes with dread. </p><p>“I thought you wouldn’t want a lot of people around.” Keith looks down at Black who greets him by hopping up onto his shoulder and headbutting his face. Then she hops down, moving to the center of the table and meowing for attention, just out of reach. Keith has to scoot in closer to Shiro to reach her, which he does as a matter of course. Shiro gives her a dirty look. </p><p>Shiro is more or less breathing normally now, but the words still don’t come easily. </p><p>He’s being awful. Rude. He knows what he should be doing right now, he can picture it: </p><p>Shiro will say “thank you for rescuing me. Would you like some tea?” </p><p>And Keith will say “It was nothing. Tea sounds great. I can make it, just tell me where everything is.” </p><p>And Shiro will tell him and Keith will set up the electric kettle and they’ll talk. And Shiro can explain about the window and because he’s just had a public breakdown like a little fool, Keith will feel sorry for him. </p><p>“You’re such a fucking mess,” Keith will say- but in a nice way. “No wonder you don’t know how to be a normal person. I get it now, no worries. I mean, of course you’d be listening in on me. What else do you have going on? It’s practically charity work at this point.” </p><p>Shiro’s phone chirps in his pocket, bringing him back to here and now. It’s probably Allura, he thinks miserably. Across the table, Keith is on his phone. Sure he is. Shiro’s boring as fuck, when he’s not being a complete deviant. Shiro slides his phone out of his pocket. It’s a text from an unknown number. </p><p><i>is this easier?</i> </p><p>Keith is glancing nervously between his screen and Shiro. </p><p>It… is. </p><p><i>sorry,</i>  Shiro manages. <i>you can talk.</i></p><p>“This isn’t how I thought we’d meet,” Keith tells Black, petting her between them. </p><p>
  <i>you wanted to meet me?</i>
</p><p>“Yeah. I- I saved your number pretty much right away, from the back off Black’s collar. I thought it might be weird though, to text out of the blue.” Keith chances a side glance at him. </p><p>Shiro thinks, maybe… </p><p>
  <i>thank you for rescuing me. Would you like some tea?</i>
</p><p>“It was nothing,” Keith says immediately. “Tea sounds great. I can make it, just tell me where everything is.” </p><p>~~</p><p>“Hi,” Shiro says into the phone much later, after Keith goes upstairs.  </p><p>“Hi,” Allura says, subdued. </p><p>“You heard?” </p><p>“You know it.” Allura replies, a little wry. “From about a dozen people. You have a lot of friends there, Shiro- even if you don’t realize it.”  </p><p>“I thought you’d be mad.” Shiro admits. </p><p>“Shiro…” Allura sounds upset. </p><p>“Do you think I’m going to die here?” Shiro asks wistfully. </p><p>“<i>Shiro.</i> No. I do not think that.” Allura says firmly. “You needed time and that’s okay. You might still need time and that is <i>also okay.</i>” </p><p>“I think I should talk to somebody,” Shiro admits. </p><p>“Like a friend?” Allura asks cautiously. </p><p>“Maybe,” Shiro agrees. “But… somebody else too. Like a therapist.” </p><p>“I think that would be a really good idea,” Allura says, voice thick with emotion. </p><p>~~</p><p>Shiro climbs out of the window and onto the fire escape. He’s not sure how it’s going to go- it’s outside. But no one is looking up and he hasn’t left the building, technically. It doesn’t do what he’s afraid it will. Black is amused by the sight of him on her fire escape and she curls in his lap outside, which helps. </p><p>When Keith gets home, he opens his window first, like usual. Black darts up the stairs to greet him. </p><p>“Hey, Black. Hey, Shiro,” Keith says, like he has for the past week since Shiro’s freak out. It’s nice, low pressure. </p><p>“Hi,” Shiro says back. </p><p>Keith sits down. “Oh,” he breathes. “Is this… okay?” </p><p>“I think so,” Shiro says truthfully. </p><p>“That’s good. Really good.” Keith says. </p><p>“I think it’s my turn to talk, if you wanted to listen.” Shiro explains. </p><p>“I want to listen,” Keith says immediately. </p><p>“It’s not a nice story,” Shiro warns, but he tells it anyway. He’d been sick, it was under control. Adam, when things were good- when they started to go south. It was over, they both knew it. Their fight, the drunk driver, the crash- </p><p>His arm. Adam’s life. </p><p>Not being able to go to the funeral because he couldn’t get into a car without hyperventilating. </p><p>Then it was easier, just… not to. Not to go places he didn’t absolutely have to go to. Not to talk to people he didn’t know. Not to talk to people he did know. And then he’d tried going to the grocery store two months after he got out of the hospital and he just... couldn’t anymore. </p><p>“Thank you for telling me,” Keith says quietly when Shiro’s finished. </p><p>Shiro clicks his tongue and Black trots down the stairs to his side. He slips her a little deli turkey- her favorite. While she’s distracted, he tears open the package he’d retrieved from the bushes, slipping the lightweight winged harness around her middle. She squirms a bit but settles when he gives her another treat. </p><p>“Call her,” Shiro tells Keith. </p><p>Keith clicks back and Black dutifully runs up the stairs. </p><p>“Oh my god,” Keith gasps. “She’s a <i>dragon.</i>" </p><p>“Yeah.” Shiro smiles down at his hands. “Happy Halloween, Keith.” </p><p>“You’re early,” Keith says, voice low. He sniffles a little, sound muffled into a sleeve. </p><p>“It’s a big deal here,” Shiro tells him. “All the kids come out. I figure we’ll be busy.” </p><p>“Are you okay with that?” Keith asks. </p><p>Shiro shrugs even though Keith can’t see him. “It’s one day.” </p><p>“Still.” </p><p>“It’s nice to see the kids happy, even if it’s a lot. Not like I have a hot date planned instead.” Shiro snorts. </p><p>“Hm,” Keith says. </p><p>~~</p><p>Shiro is trying to psych himself up for the Halloween crowds. He’s got buckets of candy at the ready and he’s even wearing a clean shirt. It’s only a couple hours. He can do this. He can picture it: </p><p>He’ll open the door, they’ll say trick or treat. He’ll say “you guys look great,” and let them grab the candy themselves. It’s okay if they take a lot, he bought extra as back up. Then he’ll close the door and then they’ll do the whole thing over again a few dozen times. It’s <i>fine.</i> Like his therapist says, it’s a process. </p><p>The first knock is early. Too early- it’s daylight outside. </p><p>“Hunk?” Shiro is confused. “Hi- what’s up?” </p><p>“I’m reporting for candy duty.” Hunk salutes. </p><p>“Excuse me?” Shiro blinks. </p><p>“You heard me,” Hunk says importantly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Do you like my costume?” He spins. It’s a very nice fireman’s costume, plastic hat and tight t-shirt and all. </p><p>“I think the moms are going to love you,” Shiro admits. “But I still don’t understand why you’re <i>here.</i>”</p><p>“Because Lance is upstairs with Allura,” Hunk says sensibly. “He wants the credit for the full sized candy bars.” </p><p>“What do you mean upstairs? Who’s at your apartment?” Shiro asks, bewildered. </p><p>“Pidge is at our place and Matt’s got their apartment covered. You worry too much.” </p><p>“I-” Shiro begins but Hunk turns him around, steering him toward the kitchen. </p><p>“Nice weather we’re having, huh?” Hunk asks innocently. Shiro glances out the window. </p><p>There are tiny pumpkin lights strung up along the fire escape, leading up. </p><p>“Do have a nice time, dear.” Hunk says, unwrapping a Jolly Rancher. </p><p>~~</p><p>Shiro follows the lights up to Keith’s apartment. A quick peek reveals it’s mostly empty- <i>minimalistic,</i> he tells himself. Allura and Lance sit on the cheap fold out futon that serves as a couch, maneuvered next to the front door. Lance is in blue, and looks less like a cop and more like a stripper pretending to be a cop on the way into the bachelor party. Allura is a princess- that is to say, she’s wearing a business suit with a tiara and six inch heels. They're too busy flirting to notice him so Shiro keeps following the lights up another three flights, until he hits the roof.</p><p>“Hi,” Keith says. There’s a couple of camping chairs set up in front of a lit fire pit in the center of the roof, lights strung all around the edges in purple bats and orange pumpkins. Keith is wearing a cheap polyester vampire cape. </p><p>“How?” Shiro asks, stunned. </p><p>Keith shrugs. “I know a guy.” </p><p>“What…” Shiro glances around. It’s open, sure- but there’s no one but the two of them up here. It feels… safe. </p><p>“It’s Coran. I know Coran, he helped me set this up, is this okay?” Keith asks, toying with the edge of his cape. “I have s’mores.” </p><p>“I love s’mores,” Shiro says helplessly. </p><p>“Yeah? I thought if you can’t go out for your hot date just yet, maybe the hot date could come to you.” Shiro stares. “Because the fire’s- nevermind, that’s a dumb joke-” </p><p>“<i>Keith,</i>” Shiro says, overwhelmed. Keith smiles, boyish and sweet. </p><p>It isn’t how he pictured it, a date with Keith. He’d seen himself whole and ready, fixed and balanced, stepping out on the town with a beautiful boy in some distant, foggy future. </p><p>No. </p><p>It’s a million times better.</p>
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